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soil her hands on such a common slave as a mere baron, but Isobel of Gloucester would have rubbed poison into your hurts. Oh, never mind, I will attend to that later. A warm soaking will do the sores good. First I want to wash your hair. Wait, you fool, do not lean back yet. Let me get a cushion to ease you. You will scrape your back against the tub." |
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"You will ruin the cushion if you put it in the bath." |
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"It can be dried. The maids are too idle anyway." |
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She went out. Ian closed his eyes and sighed. An expression of indecision so intense as to amount to fear crossed his face, changed to a rather grim determination. Alinor returned with a maid at her heels. She slipped the cushion behind Ian, and he slid down against it and tipped his head back. He could hear the maid laying out fresh clothing and gathering up his soiled garments. Alinor reached over him to scoop up a ladleful of water, poured it over his head, and began to soap his hair. |
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"Tell me something pleasant," she said. |
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"Well, we took Montauban," Ian responded a little doubtfully, but at a loss for anything to say that Alinor would consider pleasant. "And a truce between Philip and John is being arranged." |
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"What is pleasant about that?" Alinor asked disgustedly. "It means the king will return here. Oh, curse all the Angevins. Richard loved England too little, and John" She gave Ian's hair a rough toweling so it would not drip in his face. "Sit up and lean forward." |
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"Yes, Alinor, but John does love England." Ian elevated his knees, crossed his arms on them, and rested his forehead on his arms. |
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"Most assuredly. Like a wolf loves little children. He could eat three a day." |
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Alinor began to wash Ian's back very gently. She felt him wince under her hands, but his voice was steady. |
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"That is his nature. Like a wolf, he is dangerous only when running loose." |
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